


Beneath the Shadows, Lie Two Devils

by bookish_cupcake



Category: Norse Mythology, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen, slight chance of sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 20:04:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookish_cupcake/pseuds/bookish_cupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his raid in Tooth's Palace, Pitch searches for his puzzle box. But it fell into the pits of Helheim, right into the grasp of Hel, the Goddess of Death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath the Shadows, Lie Two Devils

Down, down, down the puzzle box tumbled. Deeper into underground palace, forever falling. Out of reach were the Nightmare King’s memories.

Falling into the pits of Helheim.

~~~

One peculiar afternoon, Hel sat idly beside the river at border of her realm. She observed the swift current, carrying along chunks of ice. Light reflected off of something new; an object not seen before in her realm of the dead. On one chunk of ice was a puzzle box, resembling what Hel once read in a dusty book.

She quickly plucked it from the river as it neared the edge. She squinted at it during closer inspection. Yes, definitely a puzzle box containing teeth and memories. She recollected well the old books her father gave her. But those were fairy tales of Midgard, yes? The tooth fairy didn’t exist.

 _And when was the last time a mortal believed in the Goddess of Death?_   She chided herself.

She studied the face, trying to place it. Nothing rang a bell. It did not belong to any of her subjects. She attempted prying it open to avail. Giving up on such endeavors, for the moment anyway, she strolled back to her palace.

~~~

Piles upon piles created a mountain of puzzle boxes. The constant chirping of the fairies did not sway Pitch from searching for his old box. He needed those memories. He felt as if he was forgetting something important, and the puzzle box held the key to that mystery.

Minutes ticked by, rolling into hours. With each passing second, rage built inside of him. Towering and towering, until the fairies could feel it, as it if were a tangible substance. Maybe, just maybe, it was fear they were feeling. His fear that his life’s greatest mystery would never be unraveled.

The fairies hushed, lest he take out his anger on them once more.

~~~

Hel twirled the artifact between her fingers, sitting idly on her chair in her chambers. “Now who could you possibly be,” she pondered quietly to herself. In front of her was her desk. Books, scrolls, and loose paper scattered the surface. Helheim was dreadfully boring most of the time, and this had been the most interesting happenstance.

She reread the details concerning the Guardians, and their enemy Pitch. She clicked her tongue, as if on the verge of knowing something. Yet her mind was five steps ahead of her as usual. It would take time for her thought process to catch up.

The door opened, followed by her two loyal servants. Ganglati and Ganglot were the closest things to friends she had down in Helheim. They were always late, it seemed. Then again, why hurry when you are already dead?

“Unrest brews in the upper world, Mistress,” spoke Ganglati.

“Asgard? It none of my concern what dreariness the norns brings them.”

“Closer, Mistress. In Midgard,” clarified Ganglot. “Sleepless nights and fearful hearts make for self-fulfilled deaths. At this rate, the number of our dead will steepen soon.”

More souls and subjects tended to be welcomed, often sought after in fact. Too much meant the same after effects as the plague. This didn’t bode well with Hel. The queen hastily stood.

“There isn’t much we can do, save for preparing for the inevitable. Ganglati, inform the builders to increase the workload. Ganglot, come with me. We need to sort the reason behind this madness.”

~~~

Pitch was spiraling further and further into the darkness, the madness. The Guardians have defeated him. The Nightmare King has been forgotten. Shadows coiled around his tired limbs, pulling lower into his underground tunnels.

In a blink, his home was gone. Below him was empty, cold space. He hasn’t stopped falling. He closed his eyes, becoming akin to the sensation.

Pitch lamented over his failed conquest. So close. Within reach. He tasted victory, but swallowed rotted, bitter defeat. Somewhere up high, he knew the Moon laughed at him.

He opened his eyes. Darkness possessed many different colors, different shades and hues that only he could see. He stretched out his fingers, feeling the shades. He blocked any noise and surroundings, focusing solely on it. Just as he contemplated his location, freezing water hit his back.

The fierce current of the river nearly took him, but Pitch had enough of life’s bullshit. He heaved himself out of the river, grabbing at the rocky terrain. Shaky feet now standing on solid ground, he rang his robe.

Pitch trekked on. Icy chill nipped at his skin. Mountains ruptured into the sky in the distance behind him. The wind howled wolfishly. He continued, finally coming across a path. In the far distance, he saw tall architecture weaving itself into the skyline. Attempting, but failing to breach the heavens.

This wasn’t any place on Earth, nor the homes of any spirit or Guardian he was aware of.

Yet Pitch knew more than most. He knew the Man in the Moon kept the others in dark, failing to inform them of what lurked in other realms. The giants, the mythical beasts of fantasy, the gods and goddesses. Had he stumbled upon one of their realms?

Ooh, what did the gods fear?

A smirk played on his lips. What  _fun_.

~~~

Days passed in Helheim without a startling increase in population. Hel stood above the pond in her desolate garden. She witnessed the Guardians’ final battle against Pitch not too long ago.

“What a wicked man,” she murmured to herself, watching him fall.

She studied his face. Then it clicked. The illustrations in her books did not do his image justice. Hel left the garden and pond. She swept through the crumbling corridors and entered her chambers.

She opened the drawer of her desk, bringing out the puzzle box. She squinted at the face. A few shades darker, but the same individual nonetheless.

“Pitch Black… But who were you in your past life?”

The goddess smirked.

Ganglot scurried into Hel’s chambers. Her loud feet and louder voice disrupted whatever Hel was plotting.

“Mistress! An unexpected has breached Helheim. He appears to be Pitch Black. Orders?”

Hel slipped the puzzle box in one of the pockets of her dress. The books were irregular on Pitch’s strengths, and from the battle, he should be weak. Yet if powers relied on belief, the dead definitely believed in fear and the shadows. How could they not with their queen?

“Why, we greet our guest, of course.”

~~~

Tiny cottages became more apparent as Pitch approached the palace. The place was dimly lit and empty. Or people were rightfully terrified.

Pitch was met by a large, stout man. Bushes of grey hair sprouted from his ears and nose. Pale, sullen skin sagged. Despite the age and tired appearance, he showed an aura of authority and assurance. Tearing him down would be a pleasure.

He breathed in the cool air, feeling his power. Oh yes, this man believed in him. This man knew who Pitch was.

“I am Ganglati,” the man said simply. “My mistress would like to welcome you to her realm.”

In a blink, only a foot of space stood between them. Pitch curled down, his smile revealing pearly white teeth amidst the darkness. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

As they journeyed to the ruler of this realm, Pitch felt his strength renew. In this realm, the dwellers believed in fear.

~~~

The servant escorted Pitch to an area which slightly resembled a garden before leaving. A mixture of bones and twigs snapped beneath their feet. In the center of the garden was a snarling, leafless tree. It towered over the walls, nearly a monster itself. Beside it was who Pitch assumed to be the ruler of the realm.

She was taller than most women he has encountered, but he was still a head taller than her. The woman was hidden beneath a cloak. Time dirtied the once white cloak, coated with rot and death until it became a murky grey.

“You are Pitch Black,” the woman said simply.

Pitch did not expect the queen’s voice to be so soft and reserved.

“And you are, my good lady?” His politeness, astutely false.

With each word spoken, she stepped closer. “You are The Boogeyman. Lord of Fear. The Nightmare King.” The woman remained three feet away from her, still hidden by the shadows.

“Yes, yes. How marvelous that we all know who I am. I do believe introductions work when both parties are known.”

“For someone akin to fear, you should know of death. Any deductions?” The woman smirked. “Coming into my realm with nary a clue. How typical of you upper dwellers.”

“Hey, sunshine” he said, voice raised. “I  _fell_. I wouldn’t walk into this wasteland purposely.” Pitch paused. “If I had to gander, I’d say—” In blink, there was no space between him, and the cloak was torn from the woman. “—Hel, the half rotten Queen of the dead.”  

Hel stepped back, regaining space and never losing composure. Half of her body was revealed to snow white, one eye angelic blue. The other half, grey skin and sunken around her bones. Her opaque eye useless and focused on empty space.

“You have many titles. Queen and Ruler of Helheim. Goddess of Death. Aren’t you supposed to assist in bringing forth Ragnarok?”

“You have many titles as well yet remain nameless. Lost. Forgotten. Defeated,” she said, each word becoming more punctuated.

A long, deep cackle emitted from Pitch’s mouth. Hel became weary as the shadows slowly moved on their own accord.

“You gods,” Pitch said, humor in his voice, “think you’re untouchable. But I wonder,” he regained the distance between, “what does a girl like you fear?” His hands aimed for her skull, but she got his wrists before he could implant any nightmares in her head.

“Ooh, so you do retain your power.” She smirked, her teeth glowing like fangs. “Sorry, dear, I just had to know.” There wasn’t a hint of an apologetic tone.

“Provoking fear? Were you not taught to never play with fire?”

Distracted, Hel did not notice the shadows coiled around her ankles. The shadows snaked up her frame, engulfing her in nightmares. Pitch finally knew what a goddess feared.

~~~

Ragnarok is coming. The gods will finally die. Hel will have her vengeance. The banishment from Odin, abandonment from her family, and scorn from the rest—all will have what’s coming to them. Expect something isn’t right.

Hel is no longer a grown woman, full of spite and anger. She is no longer hardened by the harsh cold of Niflheim or the dead among her halls. She is a little girl, who remembers a doting father and warm uncle.

She swings her neck back and forth at her soldiers looking expectantly at her, awaiting the commands for battle. But she is young and small and does not understand. She doesn’t want to fight. She wants her mother and father. She wants everything to go back to normal.

She hears an uncanny laughter. She runs around, even checking beneath her soldiers. She cannot find the source. The laughter doesn’t stop. She starts pulling at her hair and clawing at her skin. It reminds her of her father in way, expect cold and mean and heartless.

Hel curls up in ball, praying for her father to rescue her. For someone.

The laughter doesn’t stop.

~~~

Hel overcame the nightmare, forcing herself back to reality. The cool wind of Helheim nips at her skin, reminding her of the success. She grabbed Pitch tight in her grip and hurled him at the leafless, black tree. It snapped under collision.

“Your power is back,” she huffed, still breathless from the nightmare. “This is excellent. Be a doll and restrain yourself as I make an offer.”

Pitch picked himself up from the damaged shambles of the tree. He rubbed his head, slightly surprised at how quickly the woman recovered. What an interesting game this would be. He decided to at least listen before breaking her. 

Hel straightened her back. His puzzle box of memories remained in the pocket of his dress, and its owner unaware. She wouldn’t play that card just yet.

“I propose an alliance. We both seek vengeance. What goes better with darkness than death?”

**Author's Note:**

> This can also be found on my tumblr.  
> http://heloftheforgotten.tumblr.com/post/39918753189/oneshot-hel-and-pitch


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